


He got one thing right

by seryle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seryle/pseuds/seryle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The redhead was practically vibrating when she returned, brandishing a book who's title looked awfully familiar. </p><p>"Oh <i>hell</i> no," Dean said, trying to snatch the paperback from her hand. Charlie immediately went into rare-comic defense mode, running away with the book stretched as far out of his reach as possible. Sam just accepted his fate, but wasn't happy about it. </p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Charlie, Dean, and Sam drink and shoot the breeze in the bunker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He got one thing right

"So anyways," Sam continued, pausing a moment to take a sip from his beer, "turns out, the guy isn't a vampire, or a serial killer; his name is Sal, and he's just a guy with two ex-wives who doesn't want to be found out." 

Charlie hugged her knees up to her chest, sinking deeper into the leather couch in the batcave's lounge. She giggled at the phrasing. "Was he a bible thumper with three blocked arteries, too?" 

The boys stole a glance at each other (to see if perhaps, the other Winchester knew what the hell she was talking about), before facing her with a double-blank-stare. "What?" they asked in unison. 

"You know, Sal!" she insisted, reaching for some popcorn. "The guy who owned the --" she stopped short, then squealed as she jumped up. "OF COURSE YOU DON'T KNOW THAT PART HANG ON," she shouted, running to the room where they'd stashed her stuff. 

The redhead was practically vibrating when she returned, brandishing a book who's title looked awfully familiar. 

"Oh _hell_ no," Dean said, trying to snatch the paperback from her hand. Charlie immediately went into rare-comic defense mode, running away with the book stretched as far out of his reach as possible. Sam just accepted his fate, but wasn't happy about it. 

"You know how much we hate those things," he said from the couch, watching Charlie and Dean in a Mexican standoff with the lay-z-boy between them. Dean finally jumped over the chair and Charlie dove for the safety of Sam. "You don't have to read us a book about our lives --" 

"It's not about _you!_ " she wailed, right arm playing keep away while her left tried to smush Dean's face back. "It's about the impala!" 

That got their attention. Dean stopping trying to grab for the book, but he pulled his Zippo out and set it on the table as a warning before seating himself to listen. Charlie cracked open the paperback and started flipping pages. 

"Ugh, where's control s when you need it?" she complained, thumbing through the pages. "Aha!" she yelled triumphantly, and opened her mouth to start when Sam interrupted. 

"Wait, this doesn't include anyone having sex in the impala, does it?" 

She rolled her eyes. "No, just listen, would you?" she asked, patience wearing out. She took a deep breath to settle herself in, then started in her best dungeon master voice, "On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville -- a blue two-door Caprice." 

"I don't see how this --" Dean interrupted, immediately shushed by Charlie making buzzing noises. 

"There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car -- no, the most important object -- in pretty much the whole universe." 

She could feel the boys relax in recognition of their prized possession, so she barreled on. She couldn't see, but she knew they were smiling when they heard the bit about Sal the bible thumper, and kept going past that, about the legos and the ashtray and the devil, the concerts and the baseball and the stars; she finished with her favorite line, "It never occurred to them that, sure, maybe they never really had a roof and four walls but they were never, in fact, homeless." It was an amazing line, just so badass, and she nailed the delivery. They had to have liked it. No, scratch that, loved it, even if they didn't like that Chuck had written their lives, this bit was worth reading. She finally looked up, barley able to contain her anticipation at their reaction. The giant fangirl grin on her face fell off as she returned from bookland to reality. 

Dean was crying, in that stoic sort of way he does; tears streamed silently down his cheeks while he was looking at the ceiling or his hands or his beer, anywhere but a person, because then he just might loose it. Sam had completely lost it, and was breaking down into sobs at this point, having been so abruptly thrown back into those moments he thought were his last. He lowered his head into his hands and just sobbed into them unashamedly; Dean wrapped an arm around him to squeeze his shoulders, then ran a hand across his back encouragingly. Sam looked up, their eyes met, and he swallowed his remaining sounds, though you could see his shoulders jump from time to time. At some unspoken signal, they both rose and started for the door.

Charlie didn't want to interrupt whatever was happening, but she worried about them heading out in this state.

"Where ya going?" she called out after them. Dean's got the back of his hand against his nose, and is trying his hardest to get himself under control. Sam finally pipes up, not caring how cracked and meek his voice sounds 

"Oh you know. Just, for a drive."


End file.
